Undeniable Truth
by Ace Ryn Knight
Summary: With a little desperation, and a hefty portion of motivation, the cupboard under the stairs wasn’t actually all that terrible.
1. Prologue

Harry Potter and the Undeniable Truth

Prologue

Harry found that with a little desperation, and a hefty portion of motivation, the cupboard under the stairs wasn't actually all that terrible. In fact, it made quite the perfect little hiding spot and, as he had realized belatedly the night before, the ideal place to listen to the news. At any rate it was better than hiding in the flower-beds again or crouching precariously at the top of the stairs.

Eyes closed tight in concentration, Harry frowned as he strained to hear the open lines of the newscast. The auditory acuity he had carefully cultivated in his month-long pursuit of his daily, if completely futile, quest for information only accounted for so much distance (and mass) before it was only a modest advantage.

He listened intently for a minute, thankful that his Aunt and cousin weren't home to make this mission even more difficult than it already was, and after deeming the day's program as unsatisfactory as its predecessors moved silently to open the cupboard.

As Providence would have it though, he had only just managed to push the door open a hair when the doorbell rang and once again proved that the universe was wholly and irrefutably against one Harry James Potter.

Moving faster than Harry had ever heard him, his walrus-sized Uncle was at door almost instantaneously, welcoming the visitor with a boisterous, "Do, come in!"

Leaning forward on the small army cot that had been his bed for so many years Harry pressed an ear against the door and endeavored to find out just who would willingly seek out the company of anyone who resided at Number Four.

He soon wished he hadn't though, as over the sound of his Uncle's labored breathing he heard an altogether too familiar voice hiss darkly, "Shut up you filthy muggle scum. I've come for the boy."

Harry's blood turned to ice in his veins and he stilled against the cupboard door. Beyond the suddenly too-thin barrier between him and his collector he heard his Uncle grunt that he was upstairs.

Harry dared not breathe so much as a sigh at twin pairs of footsteps, one set distinctively lighter than the other, ascended the staircase. He briefly wondered how long he would have until they realized he wasn't there and whether or not he could get out of the house before they returned.

A great bellow of rage followed the thought, and as his Uncle and the wizard came thundering back down the stairs, Harry had to marvel at just buggered he was.

His heart jumped into his throat as the cupboard door was flung open and he found himself sprawled unceremoniously on the hall floor.

"New bow Mr. Malfoy?" he quipped, tone intrepid, as he stared up at the business-suit clad wizard.

A/n: this fic was inspired by my brother- who, in all his unwitting glory, asked "Would Vernon turn Harry over to Voldemort if he had the chance?" and I answered unthinkingly "Yes."

Begins, right after Dudley is Demented

Disclaimer: no claims of ownership…blah, blah, blah


	2. A Disconcerting Encounter

Harry Potter and the Undeniable Truth

Part 1- A Disconcerting Encounter

"_New bow Mr. Malfoy?" he quipped, tone intrepid, as he stared up at the business-suit clad wizard._

Harry grinned impulsively as he continued, propping himself up on the heels of his hands, "It's very striking sir, very bold, brings out your eyes."

"My Lord wants you _alive _Potter, whether or not you arrive in one piece is entirely up to you." The elder Malfoy warned. Turning back to Harry's Uncle he withdrew a large wad of muggle currency from a pocket. "The money, as agreed."

Vernon Dursley grabbed the notes with haste, and thumbed through them, a wide delighted smile on his face.

Harry grimaced and stood, one hand going instinctively to the band of his jeans for his wand the other curling into a tight fist. Lucius however, beat him to the draw and Harry once again found himself blinking at the piece of polished ebony pointed between his eyes.

Harry sighed in defeat, "I hate you."

"The feeling is mutual Potter. Now turn around, we're leaving."

Harry glared, "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I beg to differ, _Petrificus Totalus_."

Harry felt his limbs straighten and snap to his sides, and in much the same manner Neville had done in their first year, he swayed slightly before toppling over.

_I'm really, really buggered_ Harry thought as the Death Eater crouched beside him.

"I've never Apparated with an unwilling companion Mr. Potter," Lucius whispered cooly, "but I assure you, you probably won't be splinched."

Harry frowned, he didn't like that notion at all. "You won't splinch me," he agreed, not liking the fact that he had, in a roundabout way, concurred with a man whom he placed third on his Scale of Evil.

He voiced this to the older wizard.

Lucius' eyes glittered faintly, "I assure you, Potter," he said grasping Harry's arm, "That thought of us agreeing unsettles me as well."

A moment of silence passed between them, a moment which was only broken by the labored breathing of Harry's Uncle, who stood off to the side, thumbing through the stack of currency with a semi-mad glint in his eyes.

The moment stretched into one of supreme awkwardness for Harry, and he wondered what the hell he'd done to deserve this. Here he lay, spellbound, as the father of his archrival palmed his wand.

And it seemed he'd exhausted his selection of witty comments and observations.

Damn.

This was _not_ his day.

And Malfoy was still eyeing him. Creepily.

After what felt like another amazingly long stretch of time, he was finally released from the spell.

"Up," the blond man ordered, wand trained on him.

Harry got up.

"Door."

Harry opened the door.

"Move."

Harry stepped into the yard.

"Arm."

Harry thrust a hand in the general direction of his captor. Lucius in turn came to stand disturbingly close to him. One pale hand closed around his upper arm with surprising strength.

Half a heartbeat later, the pain began. Quite suddenly he was being squeezed from all sides, and darkness closed in on him. And then the earth dropped away beneath his feet. He was floating; with only the pain and the darkness to accompany him.

As swiftly as they appeared, pain and darkness vanished. Light returned, pale and silvery in color. He found the earth again, and crumpled to the ground, feeling bruised, weak-boned, and sore all over. He didn't think he'd ever move again.

A polished black boot nudged him none-too-gently in the ribs. He groaned, rolling weakly away from it. One arm he slung across his eyes. He could feel his own pulse as it throbbed against the rim of his glasses, where they dug into the bridge of his nose

The pale, iron hand grasped his arm again and tugged. With surprising ease, he was hauled to his feet. Eyes squeezed shut, he felt himself sway, still unsteady.

A hand pressed into his back and shoved.

He stumbled forward, one shoulder slamming into cold metal. Eyes still shut, he angled away from the offending gate and lurched to a halt.

Overhead he heard the ominous rumble of thunder.

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